Page 90 of Taste of Blood

I turn and storm back inside, ignoring Dante’s calls to me as I cross to the break area where the liquor cabinet and oversized refrigerator are located. I yank open the door of the fridge and grab two bags of blood, then head downstairs to the basement.

Vamp 1 is awake again, his one eye tracking my movements as I shrug out of my jacket and toss it aside. I tear open one bag of blood and guzzle it in front of him before pulling out my switchblade and stalking over to him with the second bag. I lean close, dangling it before him. His veins should be eating him alive by now.

“Want this?”

His eye widens as he licks his parched lips. “Y-yes.”

“Tell me about Howard Thalium.”

“Who?”

I flick the blade open and jam it into his shoulder. “Howard fucking Thalium. Know him?”

He screams as I yank the blade out and run it down his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“No?” I puncture the bag with the tip of the blade and hold it under his nose. “That’s funny, since you work for him.”

His body shivers, his face slack with hunger, but he doesn’t answer me. I dip the blade into the bag and run it over his lips. His tongue snakes out, licking at the blood, and a moan escapes his mouth as he lunges forward for more.

I pull the bag away and shake my head. “Uh uh. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll give it to you. Surely you’ve heard that name before. Maybe he told you, maybe you overheard a conversation.” I bring the blade close to his remaining eye. “Maybe you saw something.”

He shakes his head, his eye fixed on the bag. “I don’t…I mean, I’ve never seen him.”

“Never seen who?”

He hesitates, and I stick my finger in the bag and rub it across his lips. “Never seen who?”

His body is shaking with need now as he licks his lips clean. “Please.”

“Answer the question and I’ll give you more.”

“The Python.”

“You’ve never seen the man you work for?”

“No. No one has. At least, no one I know.”

Interesting.

“So who do you take your orders from?”

When he doesn’t answer, I tip the bag up and pour a few drops into his mouth. He laps at it like a starving dog, his moans filling the air. I pull the bag away and shake my head.

“No more till you answer the question.”

He whimpers and drags his tongue over his lips. “More please.”

“Listen carefully.” I smack him on the head with the knife to get his attention. “Who. Do. You. Take. Orders. From?”

“Please,” he whines. “I need more.”

My patience is starting to run thin. “Then answer the fucking question.”

“R7.”

“R7? What’s that?”